Listening Critically in the Canadian Capital: Race, Space, and Resistance in Ottawa

This guided sound walk invites participants to consider how the soundscapes of Ottawa have shaped and continue to shape Canada’s national sonic imagination. Music and sound are felt physically and psychologically, they are embedded in our sociocultural practices, and are thus capable of generating powerful emotions. In Ottawa and on Parliament Hill, these affective qualities are tied to the projection of national identities, interests, and narratives that resonate across the country and around the world.

The National Capital Region is situated on unceded Algonquin territory, and has long been a meeting place for Indigenous peoples. Despite promises guaranteeing the land rights of First Nations, no land treaties have been negotiated between the Algonquin Nation and the Canadian State. As a settler colonial society, Canadian institutions, narratives, and social relationships have been shaped by British imperialism and colonial racism, which can be seen and heard in the architecture, ceremonies, regulations, and soundscapes of Parliament Hill. Official multiculturalism and other policy priorities of the Canadian government also resonate throughout the Parliamentary Precinct, sending powerful messages about who is and isn’t included in official narratives.

Throughout the sound walk, we listen critically for sites of erasure, contestation, and resurgence. What role does music and sound play in shaping national narratives on Parliament Hill? What histories are amplified, attenuated, and silenced in these soundscapes? How are music and sound mobilized to challenge and disrupt official narratives? How is sound regulated in the Parliamentary Precinct, and what kinds of sociality does this afford? How does the sonic environment choreograph visitors’ movements in the area?

This sound walk unfolds chronologically, revealing layers of soundscapes and their sonic traces through time. Beginning with a reflection on the land as unceded Algonquin territory, we consider the sonic violence of settler colonialism in the establishment of the settler city and future capital. We proceed to examine the sonic legacies of British imperialism and the spectacular ceremonies that reassert Britishness as the core Canadian identity, and that serve as important tourist attractions. Moving off the Hill, we examine more recent expressions of official multiculturalism in the broader Precinct, visiting the statue of Canadian jazz pianist Oscar Peterson, and then looping back to listen to sonic manifestations of contemporary political movements, including Idle No More and the 2022 Freedom Convoy.​ As we walk, I invite you to pay close attention to the sounds around us - what resonates, what feels familiar, and what sounds might be absent.​

​While we come from many territories with unique histories, and have our own specific relationships to land and place, today we gather on unceded and unsurrendered Algonquin Anishinaabe territory.

The Algonquin peoples, who inhabit the territories near the rivers of Ontario and Quebec, have a rich and vibrant history and deep relationships with these lands, dating back to time immemorial. Although negotiations are ongoing, this land remains stolen and unsurrendered. The disputed territory involves 9 million acres, including the watersheds of the Kichsisippi, the Mattawa River, and the city of Ottawa. In 2016, an Agreement-in-Principle was signed that for some signaled a renewed relationship; however, it remains contested.

​Our sound walk is situated within these complex histories, and within ongoing structures of settler colonialism, systemic racism, and Indigenous dispossession. We have a responsibility not only to acknowledge the sovereignty of the Algonquin Nation and other First Nations, Inuit and Métis across Canada; but to consider the lands we occupy, our positionality, and the ways we engage with the land as Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. ​​The arrival of European settlers transformed the soundscapes in what is now known as Canada. Colonial policies, such as the Indian Act and the Chinese Immigration Act for example, forcibly silenced Indigenous voices, customs and cultural practices, and discriminated against racialized communities whose labour was essential to the formation of the state. These histories of erasure remind us of the many ways settler colonialism is embedded in Canadian political, economic, and legal systems, and in social and cultural contexts.

​Throughout this guided listening tour, we invite you to reflect on the following questions: What is your relationship to the land known as Ottawa? What sounds do you associate with structures of power, such as settler colonialism and white supremacy? How might we listen for the echoes and resonances of power in the national soundscape over time? And what are our responsibilities to the sounds we hear, and to those that have been silenced?

Parliament Hill is much more than a set of buildings that house the federal government; it is a federal public space where notions of “Canadianness” are constructed and conveyed to citizens and the broader world. It is here that so-called Canadian values - such as inclusion, multiculturalism, peacekeeping, and democracy - are represented, voiced, celebrated, challenged, and enshrined into law.

As a place where national narratives are consolidated and contested, Parliament Hill is a site of both harmony and dissonance, and the sounds resonating in these spaces add to the complexity of these stories. An array of different events take place on Parliament Hill, from official ceremonies and celebrations to public protests and demonstrations, each adding to the soundscapes that define the nation and what it means to be Canadian. These sounds - whether the formal speeches of politicians, the anthems sung during national celebrations, or the chants of protestors - are evidence of the diverse and often conflicting voices that make up the Canadian nation. It is a space where the ideals of the nation are performed and interpreted, where they may be audibly expressed and subject to negotiation and redefinition. It is a place where the ongoing projects of settler colonialism and national-building are sonically articulated and negotiated.

​​​Parliament Hill is also a site that is deeply rooted in British colonial history, from its Gothic Revival architecture, to the traditional imperial ceremonies that take place on the grounds. These are unequivocal statements of the Canadian government’s continuity with England, the Westminster parliamentary system, the British Crown, and the institutions of Christianity. Many of the sounds on the Hill reflect this imperial heritage, including official speeches, ceremonies, and events that center whiteness and settler colonial narratives.

​​The parliament buildings are monumental, and the grounds are carefully manicured, protected, and policed. Visitors are permitted to roam freely during the day, and the sprawling front lawn hosts a variety of activities from official Canada Day celebrations to yoga classes and salsa lessons run by a local studio.

While this is designed to give the appearance of openness, and project an image of Canada as liberal, tolerant, and inclusive nation, Parliament Hill remains a highly controlled and monitored space marked by a strong police and military presence. These hierarchical structures prioritize certain sounds and bodies over others.

An aspect of spatial management on Parliament Hill is the strict regulation of sound. The guidelines implemented in May 2023 are designed to prevent public sounds from interfering with official parliamentary activities. For example, amplified sound is prohibited during state-curated ceremonies, such as the Changing of the Guard, and performances by the Dominion Carillonneur. The soundscape of the Hill is thus a complex negotiation between public access and institutional control that balances public accessibility with institutional authority. The result is a carefully choreographed environment that reflects both democratic ideals and established power structures.

The Peace Tower Carillon is an iconic architectural landmark, a national soundmark, and a memorial to those who fought in the First World War. Inaugurated on July 1st, 1927, then-Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King announced that the Peace Tower carillon would serve as “the voice of the nation in thanksgiving and praise.” It is an impressive acoustic and mechanical musical instrument, comprising 53 bells, ranging from 4.5 kg to 11 tonnes that were cast and tuned in Croydon, England.

The Canadian national anthem was the first piece performed on the carillon by the first Dominion Carillonneur, Percival Price. This was broadcast across the country on the Canadian National Railway radio, making it the first cross-country broadcast on the first national radio network. It was a spectacular attempt to bind together listeners from coast to coast via the space-binding technological infrastructure of railway and radio.These infrastructures were crucial to the expansion and dominance of the settler colonial state and heroic achievements through large scale infrastructure projects have been part of the white, masculine, Anglo-Canadian imagination since the nineteenth century

Mackenzie King reiterated the role of the carillon in his speech for the opening of the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto in 1928.

Although the carillon’s origins are European, bells have been used around the world as communal signals marking civic events from the mundane aspects of everyday life, to exceptional circumstances such as military invasions, fires, and curfews. When the Peace Tower carillon was inaugurated, Indian Residential Schools were operating in full force under the direction of Duncan Campbell Scott and the Department of Indian Affairs, and attendance was mandatory under the 1930 Indian Act. Residential schools were managed and policed through sequences marked by the chiming of bells, which, for Indigenous children, became part of a soundscape of violence, oppression, loss, trauma, and genocide. As scholar Patrick Nickleson has argued, the Peace Tower carillon is a soundmark of settler colonialism, and a reminder of the forced assimilation and eradication of Indigenous peoples and cultures by religious and governmental authorities. While the Peace Tower carillon may evoke colonial nostalgia and pride in the broader Canadian population, for many Indigenous peoples, the carillon embodies the sonified power and brutality of the Canadian state.

The current and fifth Dominion Carillonneur is Dr. Andrea McCrady. She is the first woman to occupy the position, which she has held since 2008. As the Dominion Carillonneur, McCrady organizes, programs, and performs the repertoire for the Peace Tower Carillon. She also teaches Carillon Studies at Carleton University, which is the only post-secondary certification program in Canada. While “O Canada” remains the first piece on the daily noon-hour recital program, McCrady aims for diversity in her repertoire, and emphasizes women composers. Among others, McCrady has adapted music by Indigenous composers Beverley McKivor and Madeleine Allakariallak for the carillon.

As the “Sound of the Nation,” the Peace Tower carillon is an important symbol that regulates the soundscape on Parliament Hill through its reliable chime marking each quarter hour, and daily noon-hour performances by the Dominion Carillonneur on weekdays. The carillon is currently silent while Centre Block undergoes a full restoration, including the carillon bells and keyboards.

The soundscape of Parliament Hill reveals a lot about who has the power to shape public space and public memory in Canada, both past and present. The ceremonies and rituals that take place on the Hill actively determine whose stories are included in official national narratives. This raises important questions about representation: Whose musical traditions are featured in official ceremonies? Whose stories do they tell? How are sonic representations of national identity experienced by different communities across the country? During the summer months, the sound of the bagpipes float across the Parliamentary grounds around ten o’clock each morning, signalling the ceremonial Changing of the Guard, officially known as “Canada on the March.” This is part of a carefully curated soundscape that connects Canada to its British imperial roots. From June to September, the measured footsteps, ceremonial music, and military commands echo traditions that were established in Britain centuries ago. While these performances are a major tourist draw, they also invite us to consider deeper questions about national identity and colonial memory.

The first Changing of the Guard ceremony took place on P​arliament Hill in 1959, during a postwar tourism boom and rising nationalist sentiment ​in Canada ahead of the centennial celebrations in 1967.​ The Ceremony itself is a centuries old practice dating back to the guarding of Britain’s royal palaces in the 1660s. The Canadian ​​Ceremony ​​is currently​​ carried out by members of the Canadian Armed Forces military bands and reserve members.​ Although the bagpipes are Scotland’s national instrument, they have also become associated with British military traditions and colonial triumph. ​​As such, they are a sonic signifier for Canadian military traditions as well, and part of a national soundscape. ​​While these traditions are important in recognizing the service and sacrifices of those who served Canada, they also reinforce a narrative celebrates Canada’s colonial history while silencing histories of Indigenous genocide and racist exclusion. ​The sounds we hear – or don't hear – on Parliament Hill reflect complex historical processes that continue to shape contemporary Canadian society. They remind us that public spaces and soundscapes are never neutral. They are a reflection of political choices about how national identity and heritage are represented and made audible.

The Parliamentary Precinct is decorated by a material and symbolic guard of several monuments and over 20 bronze statues that pay tribute to moments and individuals deemed significant to the Canadian nation. The statues include seven former Prime Ministers (John A. Macdonald, Alexander Mackenzie, Wilfrid Laurier, Robert Borden, William Lyon Mackenzie King, John Diefenbaker and Lester B. Pearson), five Fathers of Confederation (George-Étienne Cartier, a joint memorial to Robert Baldwin and Louis-Hippolyte Lafontaine, George Brown and Thomas D’Arcy McGee) and two monarchs (Victoria and Elizabeth II).

The statue of celebrated Canadian jazz pianist Oscar Peterson is the only representation of Black Canadians in the Parliamentary Precinct, and its placement and sociality are highly unusual. The Oscar Peterson statue was unveiled on June 30, 2010. More than ten thousand people attended the ceremony, including Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh in attendance. Canadian pianist Oliver Jones performed with the Montreal Jubilation Gospel Choir.

In 2008, the NAC commissioned a sculpture of Oscar Peterson from renowned Canadian sculptor Ruth Abernathy. Funds for the project were raised by the NAC and came from private donors. Like her sculpture of Glenn Gould outside CBC studies in Toronto, the statue of Peterson is at street level, accessible, encourages interaction, and is suggestive of someone who is “of the people” rather than on a pedestal. The statue provides space for visitors to sit down next to Peterson at his piano bench, and in Abernathy’s words, encourages passersby to “play a duet.” The accessibility of this statue, and its interactive design are unlike other statues in the area. It is also the only monument where sound is an important component, and recordings of Peterson play continually. While the statue of Peterson helps to diversify the monuments in the Precinct by celebrating the achievements of a Black musician rather than another white statesman or military general, it also plays into a long-held stereotype of Black Americans as naturally skilled and willing entertainers. Peterson was subject to racism throughout his career, particularly early on, and prior to the civil rights movement in the 1960s. His wide grin and relaxed posture risk reproducing the figure of the performative Black entertainer who puts on a smile for white audiences, masking the racism these performers were subjected to in their everyday lives. Although it celebrates a prominent Black Canadian figure, the monument is limited in its ability to convey struggles related to systemic racism in Canada. It is easily read as a testament to Canadian multiculturalism, promoting the notion that cultural differences are valued, and contributions from all diverse communities are equally recognized in Canada.

In 2012 and 2013, grassroots demonstrations calling for Indigenous self-determination and environmental activism drew international attention. Idle No More became one of the most significant Indigenous-led social movements in recent history. It began in response to concerns over Bill C-45, a federal bill that threatened to further erode Indigenous rights and environmental protections. Idle No More, was a collective call to action against historical injustices, dispossession exploitation, and the ongoing marginalization of Indigenous peoples and their rights to self-determination in Canada. Though initially sparked by a small group in Saskatchewan, Idle No More rapidly gained momentum, leading to widespread protests, blockades, round dances, and marches across the country. At the heart of the movement was a call to respect and honour Indigenous sovereignty, treaty rights, and environmental stewardship.

In Ottawa, Idle No More had a significant presence in the streets and on the city’s cultural and political landscape. The powerful ceremonies, songs, and calls for justice transformed the urban soundscape and disrupted the colonial spaces in downtown Ottawa. Building on legacies of Indigenous activism and land-based direct action, round dance was performed by hundreds of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people on Parliament Hill, and in solidarity across Canada . The so-called “Round Dance Revolution” was a form of resistance and rebellion against the Canadian settler state.

The strict regulation of sound on Parliament Hill heightens the significance of demonstrations that disrupt official national narratives, and brings into relief sounds that are sanctioned versus those that are silenced. Indigenous resurgence continues to challenge official national soundscapes, despite ongoing attempts to silence, erase, and diminish Indigenous presence. Idle No More and similar demonstrations , amplify calls for equity, justice, environmental protection, decolonization, and Indigenous rights to self-determination across the country.

In late January 2022, a series of truck convoys organized by right-wing activists converged on Parliament Hill, demanding that the federal government end all vaccine mandates and public health protocols related to the COVID-19 pandemic. The self-proclaimed “Freedom Convoy” occupied ten square blocks in downtown Ottawa for nearly four weeks. The occupation severely disrupted daily activities and access to essential services for residents, business owners and vital support agencies. The City of Ottawa did not issue any permits for the Freedom Convoy, nor did Convoy organizers consult with Algonquin peoples or engage in respectful visiting protocols, a standard requirement for large or sustained gatherings on Algonquin territory.

Music and sound were key characteristics of the occupation, and sonic violence was used to control the space. The sound of trucks honking, engines revving, air horns, train horns, and amplified music routinely exceeded 100 db for prolonged periods. The incessant noise from blaring horns and amplified music imposed a sonic environment that put many Ottawa residents under extreme duress. Large sound systems and stages were set up in major intersections near Parliament Hill where DJs played mainstream popular and electronic dance music day and night to crowds of varying numbers, creating a party atmosphere that included hot tubs, barbeques, and inflatable “bouncy castles.” While the sonic environment impacted many residents, it also drew people to the area, some of whom supported the Convoy, others who were ambivalent, and many who were eager to socialize after months of lockdowns and social distancing.

However, the soundscape became a site of violence, contestation, and exclusion. It displaced many racialized, disabled, elderly, 2SLGBTQIA+, and low-income residents, many of whom reported feeling unsafe on the streets and trapped in their homes.That the Convoy was allowed to set up large sound systems, stages, and host late-night outdoor dance parties in an urban center for three weeks depended on the virtual suspension of law enforcement onsite. The subsequent public inquiry into the occupation revealed that neither the municipal government nor its police force had prepared for the possibility that the truckers might refuse to leave. This allowed the Convoy to produce a spectacularly loud festival-like atmosphere that drew people to the area and invited media attention, especially on the weekends. Anglo-American pop music was a way of suggesting that Convoy demonstrators were so-called typical Canadians merely enjoying everyday social activities and familiar music that the government had unlawfully denied them throughout the pandemic.

The Convoy revealed the stark contrast in police action against progressive movements—often led by members of Indigenous, racialized, queer, and other marginalized communities—and right-wing populists. The prospect of a white middle-class protest was largely dismissed by police as non-threatening, despite ample evidence to the contrary. Supporters of the Freedom Convoy have become a fixture on Parliament Hill. Even in small numbers, they are a reminder of how the national soundscape was occupied for three weeks with hateful rhetoric and disinformation.

Since 1917, the 50th anniversary of Confederation, Canada’s official national holiday has been celebrated on Parliament Hill accompanied by flag ceremonies, speeches, music, and fireworks. ​On Canada Day, this space is filled with celebration, music, and performances, but it also carries the weight of the histories we’ve explored today.​​

​​​As we conclude our soundwalk, I encourage you to reflect on the sounds you’ve heard and the stories they carry. How do they shape our understanding of identity, power, resistance and national Canadian narratives? The sounds of celebration can often drown out the calls for justice that are equally important to understandings of Canada.

The familiar notes of O Canada that we just heard represent more than just a national anthem – they're part of a carefully orchestrated soundscape that has, for over a century, shaped our understanding of Canada. On Canada Day, Parliament Hill becomes a crescendo of celebratory sounds: Military bands playing patriotic marches Political speeches echoing across loudspeakers Crowds singing the national anthem Fireworks thundering overhead Yet beneath these dominant sounds lie other frequencies of our national story – frequencies that often struggle to be heard above the official narrative. As we conclude our guided soundwalk, we invite you to reflect on your listening experiences. Whose voices are amplified in official celebrations? Whose stories are muted by the sounds of national pageantry? How do the acoustic properties of this space – designed to project certain voices of authority – impact whose stories can be heard?